


coffee at midnight

by harukatenoh



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Multi, adam isnt in the first chap tfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harukatenoh/pseuds/harukatenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah is a disgustingly cheerful barista who has just started work at Ronan's favourite coffee store. Ronan is sleep deprived, perpetually angry, and definitely does not find Noah cute at all. In the least. </p><p>Gansey is a dork, Blue knows everything and Adam is busy. With a sprinkle of chocolate, some prodding from Blue and some shoving-directly-into-the-line-of-fire from Gansey (and don't forget Adam's constant sarcastic commentary), Ronan and Noah's lives start to overlap even more, maybe for the better, maybe for the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	coffee at midnight

**Author's Note:**

> (hint: it's for the better. its a romance fic.)
> 
> anyways, hello!!! this is my first ever multi chap fic... so updating my be a lil erratic sorry. i'm writing this with my lovely pal mara (http://prouviare.tumblr.com/) and its one of the funnest and longest things i've written aaa!! i hope you enjoy this :-)
> 
> this fic goes out 2 mara... even though they wrote it with me. love u mara
> 
> the work title is from "you are in love" by taylor swift, and the chapter title is from "this is the life" by two door cinema club

Certain things, Ronan thinks, can be held at 6 in the morning. Classes are not one of those things, especially if they mean that Ronan Lynch has to wake up at 5 fucking am to get there, just after the required time of course, because damn, if the school is going to force him to wake up at the crack of dawn then he deserves to mess with it just a bit. He wonders blearily if he can just ignore his alarm and continue lying in his incredibly warm bed. Naturally, he ends up trying, but the insistent beeping of the tiny box eventually wins, and Ronan grudgingly gets out of bed to hit the snooze button.

“Shut the fuck up.” He snaps at the alarm, glaring at the glowing red numbers. It had been Gansey’s bright idea to glue his alarm on the other side of the room, forcing him to actually get out of bed if he wants to turn it off. It’s actually pretty smart, but Ronan isn’t about to admit that.

Speaking of Gans, he’s probably curled up on his bed in the room next to him, sleeping like a baby. Ronan considers waking him up, since he was the one who had signed Ronan up for these damned early classes anyway, so he would deserve it, but he decides not to. Let sleeping dogs lie, and let sleeping best friends do the same.

He wearily gets dressed, while planning all the ways he can sue his school for inhibiting his pursuit of happiness. He grabs an apple and then heads outside, bundling up in his large jacket as much as possible, then with a sigh, he sets off.

To arrive at 6:05 on the dot, Ronan’s journey has to be carefully planned. He runs through his checklist for his morning routine as he walks. Has he muttered darkly at his alarm clock for about 5 minutes? Check. Stepped outside, and sworn a bit at how cold it is out? Yup. With those two out of the way, it’s time for the best part of this shitty morning. He beelines for his favourite coffee shop in the area, jogging slightly to keep himself warm.

It’s his favourite because a) it’s the only one open at this inhumane time of day, and b) the barista there, understanding what one’s temperament tends to be at 5 in the morning, has never attempted to interact with Ronan apart from taking his order. Silence and absolutely minimal human interaction is the key to surviving a morning with Ronan Lynch.

That’s why, when he walks into Monmouth Cafe that morning and is greeted by a new and way too cheerful voice, Ronan Lynch, who can probably navigate the small shop with his eyes closed, crashes straight into a coffee table in surprise.

“F-” He starts, but luckily doesn’t finish. In his defense, it hadn’t been there last time. Neither had the ridiculously tiny elflike person who is standing at the counter, staring straight at him. Ok, he isn’t that tiny, but to Ronan, anybody who’s shorter than him might as well be a 12 year old. But it isn’t the height that gets to Ronan, no. The much more prominent thing is that this new barista of his is smiling.

Genuinely smiling, looking like the picture of bliss, grinning like some fucking Cheshire cat, put it any way you like, the matter still stands that it’s happening at possibly the most ungodly time of day. Ronan isn’t sure if he’s just that surprised, or if it’s because he’s tired and very caffeine deprived, but his jaw almost drops. Ronan takes a moment to study the glaringly new and different features of this barista. Darker skin, shorter hair, and a much better facial structure. A solid 8. Not that Ronan is paying attention. He’s too busy being confused and disgruntled.The barista keeps staring at him, the smile finally faltering after about 20 seconds.

“Uh… can I take your order?” The barista finishes the question with his smile back in full force, and wow. Nobody should radiate sunshine and happiness as much as this barista does, especially this early in the morning, and yet. Here he is. Doing so. It kind of pisses Ronan off.

He makes a half-assed attempt to calm himself and fails miserably. He makes his way slowly to the counter, navigating through the new layout of the store. He’s still tired, and so not in the mood for this, so when he finally reaches the counter, he needs to stop and collect his thoughts.

Which are currently along the lines of “fucking new barista fucking smile too early in the morning for this tired tired tired mental note to give Gans shit for this later”. Finally managing to muster up what little energy he has, he growls, “Venti black”, drops the money on the counter and turns his head away before the barista has time to offer another cheery greeting. Instead, he does something which could almost be worse.

From the corner of his eye, Ronan watches as the barista practically beams at him, a smile so bright and happy that Ronan has to look straight at him again to properly register it. It also makes the barista distractingly good looking, but Ronan ignores that. Wrenching his gaze away from the barista, he forces himself to stare straight ahead at the display case of coffee and not make eye contact at any costs, but his eyes eventually flicker down towards the name tag on the barista’s chest.

_ Noah. _

Noah is now turned away from him, making his coffee while, is that humming? Can it be that this apparent actual Disney Princess is _humming_ while doing something as monotonous as making coffee? Ronan checks the time on his phone, making sure that it was in fact 5:18 am, and not any other time where this amount of happy would be warranted. He wants to ponder just exactly how this Noah guy manages it, but instead he shakes the thoughts from his mind, and tries to concentrate on the completely empty cafe.

This lack of focus on Noah only serves to make Ronan more surprised when he amicably says “Do you come here often?” over his shoulder. Ronan’s first reaction is to feel insulted. He almost makes some retort about how he is the “ultimate regular” of this place, quote Gansey, but he realizes that would require striking up conversation, and Ronan is so not about that life. Instead, he just glares even more than usual, and ends up staring very intensely at the tip jar.

Ronan let his mind go off on some tangent about tipping, trying to remember the required amount for his favourite Vietnamese restaurant. Thinking about it lets him ignore that Noah had used such a colossally cliched line as a conversation opener, something that offends him to the bottom of his soul. Cliches and Ronan Lynch? They did not mix. Just like a long list of other things that didn’t mix with him, including joyful baristas and early mornings. Even worse if they were combined.

Finally exhausting this line of thought, his sleep-deprived mind chooses to focus on the incredibly out of tune rendition of Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off that is filling the silent cafe until he can take it no longer.

“You do know that Taylor Swift was never meant to be sung so out of tune so early in the morning, right?” He says sharply. Ronan unfortunately, has yet to ingest enough coffee to make him a semi-functional human being, so he fails to notice Noah’s ears turning slightly pink as he replies with a muttered “sorry then.” Ronan is satisfied with that, assuming that he’s warded off any positivity for the rest of the morning.

So when Noah turns around, cup of coffee in hand, and asks him what he’s doing up so early, Ronan’s utterly taken by surprise. Again. This morning has been full of surprises, and not of the alcohol variety that Ronan is used to. It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, but Ronan has appearances to keep up, and if his early morning one is of a grumpy and tired student, he’s not about to let it drop.

“Early classes.” Is his short reply. Noah seems to accept it, finally releasing Ronan’s cup of coffee onto the counter with another smile. Ronan grabs it hastily, basically running out of the cafe, before the barista could try for any more conversation. Ronan swears he can see Noah’s face drop as he leaves, and he almost stops and goes back.

Maybe he had been a _bit_ rude.

He makes his big escape nonetheless, and afterwards, he feels strangely awake. Walking slowly towards his university, sipping at the hot coffee, he reflects on the events of the morning. He’s unsure if it was the coffee sending the warm thrills through his body, or something else, but, being a firm believer in not feeling anything vaguely happy before 9am, he dismisses it as early morning, pre-caffeine confusion.

He also dismisses a few other things under this excuse, including the fact that he almost just walked across the road without looking, and that he had almost found the barista cute.

_Almost_.

“Man,” he says out loud to the empty air, “mornings sure do fuck you over.”

∞∞∞

It takes Noah approximately ten minutes after the guy leaves to finally stop blushing. Or maybe it’s the ridiculously warm atmosphere inside the cafe, but he’s pretty sure it was the guy. Grumpy, half dead, sleep deprived students bundled up in large black coats should not be as cute as he had been, especially when all they do is criticize his humming. It’s not his fault that he’s had a slight cold lately. Well, picking flowers at 2 am in the morning with Blue may have contributed to that, but Sir Grump didn’t have to know.

Speaking of the devil, there she is. Walking in right on time for the shift change, Noah notes gratefully. He is all too ready to collapse into his bed waiting at home. The graveyard shift really does make you feel like a ghost.

“Rough first night?” Blue smiles, looking exactly like somebody who has recently gotten eight hours of calm, pleasant sleep would. Noah looks up from the table he’s cleaning, about to fall to his knees and praise Blue’s timely shift takeovers then hightail it out when he pauses. He considers the fact that for some reason Blue knows almost everyone here, possibly because of her job at Nino’s or because her radical -quote himself- slam poems have become rather well known around the area.

He takes a chance, and says “Not really, but is it normal for a student covered head to toe in black to come in like a zombie and criticize my hummed rendition of Shake It Off? It might have been a hallucination, at this point I’m honestly not sure.” Blue purses her lips while she unwraps yet another scarf from around her neck (is that the third one? the fourth? who knows when it comes to Blue Sargent).

“I need more info.” She tells him, still thinking.

“Uh… shaved head, not really big on the talking thing… pretty attractive I guess..” Noah finishes on a hesitant note, not wanting to think too closely about exactly how cute this certain customer had been. Starting work at Monmouth is definitely bringing him into contact with a lot more people, he muses, and he wonders if he’ll see the boy again.

After about a moment of intense thought, Blue’s face lights up, with not so much an “Eureka!” but more of an “ohhh I can see where this is going and I like it very much.” A little worrying, but Noah knows better than to question her.

“That was probably Ronan Lynch, resident jackass, cuddler of mice, the guy who is willing to fight everything including himself. He’s great, you’d like him. That is, when he’s more of a functional human being. Not everybody can be as chipper as you at 5 in the morning, Noah.” She says with a smile. Noah nods his head slowly, taking in the info.

Ronan Lynch. Huh. Noah isn’t sure if he likes him as much as Blue says, but mice cuddling? He really can’t turn that down. And he guesses that it _had_ been pretty early… and most people can’t really deal with early mornings… and he is pretty cute…

“I’ll give him a chance.” Noah says offhandedly.

“He goes to Aglionby’s.” Blue continues, and Noah’s face instantly sours. People who go to Aglionby didn’t have the best reputation. Blue nods sympathetically. “I know what you mean, but just give him a try. That is, if you can ever catch him later in the day.” Noah shrugs.

“I don’t need too, don’t worry. I can wear the moodiest of people down” He says, attempting to wink, and failing. Blue laughs, rolling her eyes.

“I suggest not going with the winking method.” She says teasingly, and Noah pokes out his tongue at her. Blue laughs again, then shoos him out of the cafe.

“I’ve got customers, get home and rest, I’m dragging you along to a performance tonight.” She says, pushing him towards the door. Noah turns around before she can shove him outside, and strides over to the counter, pretending to slam his hand down on it.

“Wait.” He says gravely. Blue takes her place behind the counter, looking equally serious. “Get me a green tea latte Sargent, make it snappy.” He says, pretending to slide a pair of sunglasses off.

Blue nods, mock saluting. “You got it boss, one green tea latte coming up.” Blue is noticeably faster than Noah at working the coffee machine, and places the latte in his hand soon after.

“It’s on the house.” Blue says, offering a fist. Noah obliges, bringing his own fist up to bump hers, both of them grinning at each other.

“See you tonight Blue! Usual place?” Noah asks. Blue nods, waving vaguely in his direction, now preoccupied with another customer. Noah makes his way out of the shop, sipping his latte. He sighs contentedly, thinking about the long sleep he was walking towards.

∞∞∞

_“bruh. bruh bruh bruhhhh”_

Ronan looks down at his phone as he walks back home from class. It’s Blue. Of course it’s Blue. He doesn’t recall ever giving her his phone number, but one time after they had spent half an hour talking at some party he had woken up to a  “Good morning jackass” and that was it. He’s only mildly concerned about it, and as long as Blue stays away from any address related business, Ronan didn’t really mind.

She probably already has it anyway.

 

_ “bruh what?”  _ He replies. It takes his phone about 3 seconds to buzz again, and Ronan marvels at Blue’s texting speed.

 

_ “bruh it’s poetry slam night at the cafe tonight u wanna go and help me fend off the disgusting hipster boys? and maybe send some cute art-lovers my way” _

 

_ “bruh how could i not want to go when u’re gonna be there” _

 

_“bruh”_

 

_“b r u h”_

 

_“ok i actually have to go now, president cell phone has appeared for his daily cup of pretentious coffee. ttyl jackass”_ Ronan grins, placing his phone in his pocket as he unlocks the door to the house. His bed is calling to him in a way that not even well-brewed coffee can.

When he gets to his apartment, he pushes open the door unceremoniously, dumping his bag full of god knows what onto the floor. He collapses onto the couch face down, groaning. Gansey steps out from his bedroom and sits on the chair opposite Ronan.

“You don’t look too happy.” He comments. Ronan groans again, turning to face the ceiling.

“This. Is. Your. Fault.” Every word is accompanied with an accusing jab of the hand towards Gansey, at which he simply laughs.

“The morning classes are good for you! And you haven’t complained about them like this for a while.” The humour in his voice is evident, but Ronan doesn’t have the energy to reprimand him for it.

“There was a new barista. I hate him.” Ronan mutters. Gansey looks at Ronan dubiously.

“Damn, what did he do? Put sugar in your coffee?” Ronan shakes his head at the suggestion.

“Worse.” Ronan is on the edge of falling asleep now, he’s sure of it, but Gansey presses on.

“Spill it on you? Insult your fashion taste? Oh gosh, did he _hit on you_?” That last suggestion wakes Ronan up, and he sits up slowly to glare at Gans.

“He _smiled_ at me.” Ronan mutters, with an almost pout. Gansey stares at him, seemingly shocked.

“Ronan… that’s…” Gansey pauses, as if considering what to say. Ronan narrows his eyes. “Not that big of a deal.” Gans finally finishes, and it’s exactly what Ronan was expecting. He stands up wearily, shuffling towards his room to whack Gansey in the shoulder.

“It was horrible. I didn’t need to see that kind of behaviour so early in the morning. Fucking disgraceful.” As he shuffles into his room, he hears Gansey laughing at him from outside his room, but he’s too tired to care. He makes a mental note to get back at him for that later, then finally slumps down onto his bed.

He’s asleep in minutes.

It’s seven pm when Ronan jerks awake from where he is lying on his bed awoken by the loud banging on his door. He upends several books and papers as he bolts upright. After several choice curse words, he rolls out of bed and walks toward the door, yanking it open to reveal a tiny Blue Sargent, who despite appearances can knock on doors loudly enough to wake up a sleeping Ronan Lynch. He doesn’t question how she knows where he lives, but he suspects that even if he did ask all he would get in response would be three minutes of hysterical laughter.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty!” Blue says, eyeing Ronan’s rumpled clothing and dirt-smudged skin. Ronan mumbles something in reply, letting her in. “So… I guess you’re not ready.” Blue comments from where she stands, in the entrance. Ronan assumes she probably doesn’t want to step inside any further, which he guesses makes sense. It is a little dirty inside his apartment.

“Just give me 5 minutes.” He calls, rushing back into his room. He changes his shirt, throws on his jacket, then splashes some water onto his face. Not his best job, but he’s tired and Blue will just have to deal.

When he walks back out, Blue raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t comment. Ronan glares at her, daring her to say something, but she just shrugs.

“It’s a quick walk. Let’s go!” She walks out of the room, not bothering to turn and check if Ronan is following. Ronan wonders what it’s like to have that much faith in one’s social skills, and most likely, weird witchy compulsion skills as well.

Blue is definitely the witchy type. It should probably intimidate Ronan, but he was used to Blue, mostly. They’ve spent way too much time together for him to be scared. If he had been in a particularly good mood in this moment, he would have almost considered her a best friend.

The walk is, admittedly, short, but not short enough. They dash into the cafe with the cold wind nipping at their heels, and even Blue in her fifty scarves, is rubbing her hands together. Luckily, they arrive right as ‘James’, another cafe regular is finishing up his poem about animal rights and wonder of deer. Blue dumps her scarves onto the couch by the fireplace, claiming it for her and Ronan as usual. Actually, the only unusual thing about the evening so far is that instead of landing on the enormous couch and providing a wonderful cushion for the remainder of the evening, the scarves land on a very cheerful but slightly subdued barista, who less than twenty four hours ago was humming Taylor Swift and generally giving Ronan a hard time.  Ronan’s heart most definitely does not skip a beat when bright blue eyes peek out at him and Blue from under the pile of scarves.

Blue, of course, says nothing about Ronan’s sudden silence and flops down next to Noah, saying “Well I can stick around for a little bit longer, but my set is coming up soon so I should get going in...say, fifteen minutes?” Ronan is going to kill Blue. That is, he would kill Blue if he thought he could, however the aura of smugness that emanates from her as she rescues Noah from the scarves is enough to make him consider it. Blue is instantly swept away in greetings and smiles and waves and it’s enough watching her to give Ronan a headache. He presses further back into the couch, as if it could swallow him up. Beside him, Noah watches with an amused expression.

“So… we meet again.” He says. Ronan pretends he doesn’t hear, because the last thing he wants to do right now is discuss the events of this morning, especially with such ridiculously nice looking eyes staring at him. Noah pokes him in the shoulder, repeating it again, oblivious to the fact that everybody knows you can’t say such a corny line twice. It loses its effect. Not like such a silly line would have an effect in the first place.

“What?” Ronan mumbles. Noah brightens instantly, finally getting a reaction.

“Hey! We never got formally introduced! I’m Noah.” He beams at Ronan again, and Ronan wishes the couch actually could swallow him up.

“Yeah. I’m Ronan.” He mumbles again, and Ronan wants the conversation to just stop there _please_. He cuts it off before it can continue, turning to Blue.

“Blue. _Blue_.” He hisses at her, and she turns away from her crowd of adoring admirers to talk to him.

“Yes?” She says sweetly, and Ronan really wishes he was anywhere but here.

“Look… are you leaving me with… this guy?” His voice goes quiet on the last two words, and he nods in Noah’s direction. “I know him, well, I don’t, I kinda do, but what the fuck am I supposed to say?” He mutters, almost distraught. Blue sighs.

“Well, why don’t you start with apologizing to him for being rude about his humming?” She said pointedly, before glancing at the time and rushing off. Ronan winces, reflecting on the morning.

Ok, he had been kinda rude. Or a lot. He doesn’t really want to go into specifics. It’s not his fault that a hummed rendition of Taylor Swift that early in the morning pisses him off, that’s just life. But, Ronan supposes that for once Blue has a point. For once. He determinedly does _not_ check the tally on his phone, even though he knows that it will show four dashes in Blue’s column and exactly zero in his.

He awkwardly turns to Noah, nudging him slightly with his shoulder. “Uh… about this morning…” he mumbles. Noah turns to him and Ronan feels like he’s crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m sorry for being rude. I’m not.. the best that early.” He continues and it feels so weak and he can’t keep his eyes off Noah and _oh shit he’s responding_.

“It’s ok!” Noah says with a smile. “Don’t worry about it…” Ronan doesn’t like how he pauses and he definitely doesn’t like the glint in Noah’s eyes. “....I _shook it off, shook it off, oo oo ooh!_ ” Noah finishes triumphantly, and it’s what Ronan had been dreading because he can’t help but laugh at this poor attempt at humour and the satisfied expression on Noah’s face and it starts off as a quiet snicker but soon grows to the point where he’s shaking with laughter. Noah looks even happier at the response he’s elicited from Ronan, who isn’t even sure why he’s laughing so hard but he is and he lets himself have this small moment.

“That was…” Ronan starts after he finally catches his breath, “ _horrible_.” Noah grins, nodding.

“I know. That’s my specialty.” He replies smugly. Ronan cracks a half hearted smile, rolling his eyes. “Seriously though, it was not that off tune. And I have a cold!” Noah protests with a sincere, wide-eye expression. And oh shit, Ronan does not need to hear that, doesn’t need to have his eyes go to Noah’s slightly red nose, does not need to think about how adorable he looks or the way his cheeks start to tinge pink with embarrassment.

They lapse into silence, a little awkward, but manageable. It’s almost the kind of quiet that friends can have. Noah settles back into the couch, almost disappearing into the soft pile of scarves that surround them. Ronan leans back too, and together they manage to last through five minutes of over-dramatic poetry before it gets too hot inside and Ronan has to grudgingly slip off his jacket, leaving him only in his black tank top.

He glances at Noah briefly, and is surprised to see the boy’s eyes fixated on his shoulder. It makes him feel vaguely uncomfortable, and he shifts awkwardly in his seat.

“The trees speak latin?” Noah says questioningly. Ronan raises his eyebrows.

“You speak latin?” He shoots back. The phrase in question, “The trees speak latin”, had been inked onto Ronan’s shoulder three years ago. Written in latin, naturally. When people see his tattoo they tend to nod and pretend they know exactly the Deep and Intelligent thing the tattoo is trying to convey. Most people don’t suddenly look at him like he’s the most fascinating thing that they’ve seen in the past two years.

Noah tilts back a little, raising his hands defensively. “You’re looking at a classics major. I go to sleep every night with dreams of verb conjugations chasing me.” When Ronan flashes a surprised smile at him, Noah finally relaxes. “So, what’s the story? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Ronan shrugs. “It’s just some weird-ass joke my friend and I have. No big deal.” He says casually. Noah looks doubtful.

“Big enough deal to get it tattooed on yourself apparently.” He comments. Ronan scowls. Noah leans closer to him, poking him in the shoulder. “So give it to me straight Ronan.” Ronan almost laughs at that, because the implication that anything about him could be on the straight and narrow was honestly, fucking hilarious.

“Sorry but I’m not about to enclose my life story to some barista I just met today.” Ronan replies, brushing Noah away slightly. Noah shrugs, retreating. They fall back into silence, and so does the rest of the cafe, as Blue steps forward to take the stage. Noah claps loudly, Ronan gives a half-hearted whoop. She starts by grabbing the microphone dramatically, and soon they’re immersed in the world of classism and student fees.

After five minutes, she finally steps down from the stage, followed by the applause of the crowd. Ronan and Noah are enthusiastically clapping. Blue soon rejoins them, looking smug.

“Enjoy the performance?” She asks. Noah nods happily, while Ronan rolls his eyes.

“Nah, I just come for the overpriced coffee.” He says sarcastically, eyeing his coffee cup. Blue swats him lightly on the shoulder.

“Stop complaining Ronan, like the extra dollar is _that_ much of a stretch for you.” She replies, slipping into the gap between Ronan and Noah. She wraps one of her scarves around her neck, burying into the warmth. They sit contentedly, watching other people perform onstage, until Ronan’s phone buzzes.

He checks it irritatedly, disturbed from the peaceful warmth of the cafe and the comfort of his coffee.

It’s a text from Gansey, and upon reading it, he gets the urge to throw his phone in the bin.

“Ronan. It’s like, almost 10 pm. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

Ronan groans, then sighs, then groans again. Blue and Noah turn to him, Noah looking concerned, Blue looking sympathetic.

“You’re leaving?” She asks, but it’s not much of a question. Ronan nods, slipping his jacket back on and rising off of the couch.

“Duty calls.” He comments. Gansey had been trying to get him to sleep earlier lately, after the fated morning where Ronan fell asleep in the shower and apparently “almost drowned”. Ronan had obliged, naturally, because he’d be damned if he could ever resist a request from Gansey.

“Well, see ya.” He says, waving shortly at Noah and Blue, who both wave back with 4 times more enthusiasm.

Around 20 minutes later, he’s sprawled on his bed, face down.

It had been a long day. Ronan hears his door open and feels somebody sit down on his bed.

“You don’t look too good.” Gansey comments. Ronan sighs, flipping over so he’s facing Gans.

“Blue Sargent is a _tyrant_.” Ronan mutters vindictively. Gans just laughs.

“You’re perfect for each other.” He says, then hesitates. “I mean, as friends. Not… the other thing.” Gansey stammers, his cheeks starting to colour. Ronan rolls his eyes.

“Can you just ask her out and be done with it?” Ronan says while rolling his eyes. Gansey blushes even more, shaking his head hastily.

“No. That is… no. Definitely no. Out of the question. It’s unthinkable, absolutely preposterous- I mean- I just don’t think that would be a good course of action an-”

Ronan lunges forward, clamping a hand over Gansey’s mouth and bringing their faces close together in the process.

“Gans. Shut up.” Ronan says. Gansey nods, staring wide eyed at Ronan. Sighing, Ronan flops back onto his bed. “Fuck romance, I’m too punk for this shit.” he grumbles.

Gansey joins him in lying down. “What happened this time?” Gans asks. Ronan stares at him.

“Why would anything happen? It’s nothing. Nothing happened. Can’t I complain about my feelings in peace?” he snaps. Gans nods thoughtfully.

“So you’re saying that there are feelings for you to complain about.” He says offhandedly. Ronan vehemently shakes his head.

“No. There is nothing.” He asserts weakly.

Gans shrugs, as well as he can when he’s lying down. “I’m just saying that the last time you declared war on romantic feelings was just before you tried to make out with me, so really, I have plenty of reason to be concerned.” Ronan narrows his eyes at Gansey. “I mean, who’s to say you aren’t about to go off and make out with like, Adam or something?”

Ronan groans, stuffing his face into a pillow. “I can assure you, I’m not about to make out with Adam. I’m sure he’s happy enough taking care of his Bugatti. Besides, he’s not the one who smells like coffee and gasoline.” Ronan says the last part absentmindedly, before horrifiedly realizing his error. It’s too late to take it back though, Gansey is already smiling smugly at him.

“So… coffee?” he says. 

“No. I didn’t say anything about coffee. Or anything. I definitely didn’t mention any coffee at all.” Ronan stammers. Gansey nods, but gives him an unconvinced look.

“Right… no coffee, no Taylor Swift, no people who make coffee singing Taylor Swift, right?” Ronan tries to shut his mouth because he’s sure that it’s gaping enough that flies can fly right into it, but he can’t find the energy to care.

“How the hell did you know about that? Did Blue tell you? I bet she told you.” He doesn’t even sound angry, or surprised. Just resigned acceptance. Gansey nods.

“Blue is a wealth of information. Like, did you know that that kid in Latin who hasn’t shown up for ages moved to Australia? He just left, without warning.” Gansey fills the space with pointless information, letting Ronan have his few moments of indignance.

Finally, Ronan speaks. “Gans, shut up. I’m about to gush here. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, so you better pay attention. No cameras thanks.” Gansey obliges, stopping halfway through his sentence, and motions for Ronan to go on. Ronan takes a deep breath, in the hope that he can get all of this out in just one go. That doesn’t prove to be the case, he discovers as five minutes later he’s still talking.

“And he does this tiny little shimmy while he’s humming, it’s just his shoulders and they keep on going up and down and it’s so annoying and when he’s embarrassed the tips of his ears turn red. The tips of his ears, Gansey. Do you know anyone whose ears do that? Do you? I’m not entirely sure that he’s real. I mean he could easily be some kind of kind forest elf masquerading as a human for shits and giggles, because I’ve never met anyone this ridiculous and- and- this cute.” Ronan finally stops for a breath, and immediately rolls over onto his face and growls into the bed once he realizes that he’s just been gushing about a barista he just met for five minutes in a row.

Gansey grins, poking Ronan in the shoulder. “You have a cruuuush,” he says in a singsong voice, and Ronan wants to punch him.

“Shut up. Leave my room. Never speak of this again.” he says, and Gansey grins even more.

“I’m not leaving. Tell me more about this boy of yours.” he states. Ronan turns to give him an evil glare. “And before you say anything, consider. This is the one time I’ll let you stay up and take the day off tomorrow.”

Ronan, who had just opened his mouth, closes it. He sighs dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. “What kind of dastardly bribe,” he says in a mock distressed voice. Gansey just laughs, shoving Ronan slightly.

“Move the heck over, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

They settle next to each other comfortably, and Ronan starts talking. 


End file.
